


Five Times Futaba Gave Her Friends "Advice" (And One Time She Got Some)

by fall_into_life



Series: The Darkest Timeline [1]
Category: Persona 5
Genre: 5+1 Things, Crack, F/F, M/M, sex comedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-07
Updated: 2019-02-07
Packaged: 2019-10-23 22:41:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17692481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fall_into_life/pseuds/fall_into_life
Summary: The Phantom Thieves have started getting sex lives. Futaba's there to critique.





	Five Times Futaba Gave Her Friends "Advice" (And One Time She Got Some)

0.

The first time Futaba hears one of her friends having sex, it’s Makoto.

Futaba is deep in the zone when it happens. At first she just thinks Makoto’s making out with someone, and ignores it. One of her smaller screens has Makoto’s coordinates on it, Futaba has the girl’s name stored somewhere; she doesn’t really need to worry about anything. Makoto’s the responsible one.

Then, part of her starts to slowly realize the noises are getting deeper. More urgent. More liquid. The rustle of clothing isn’t weird for making out, but she starts to hear bedsprings, and then there’s some girl yelling Makoto’s name, and--

Futaba slams the mute button for Makoto’s phone, her cheeks burning.

Somehow, she didn’t realize her friends might start having sex soon. She’s had them all bugged since before she was a Phantom Thief, and they all know it. Futaba knew they were hitting the making out stage. She just didn’t put it together that they might get to the part that comes after, the part that involves girls she’s never met screaming Makoto’s name.

Which, good for her. But also… no. Just, no.

Futaba custom-codes an emergency mute button for each of her friends’ phones, and starts paying a little more attention to their dating lives.

1.

The first time Futaba has anything to say about her friends having sex, it’s Ryuji.

Futaba knew Ryuji was sneaking around with some guy, knew they’d been making out, and suspected they’d done some other stuff she just hadn’t picked up. Then before she could get to the mute button, there were springs creaking-- and then no springs creaking.

She stops, finger over the mute button. Did he seriously do what she thinks he just did.

The other guy grumbles, the bed creaks again, and then there aren’t any springs. No motion, no kissing, no fabric, nothing. Just silence. Futaba cannot fucking believe this. 

It was super awkward hearing Makoto make some girl wail, but Futaba just heard Ryuji’s first time and it lasted like thirty seconds. She dials him up, staring at her screens.

His phone had been on do not disturb, but that doesn’t stop Futaba for a second. She turns his phone back on full volume, and snickers when she hears him fall over trying to get to it.

“Futaba?” He’s out of breath, which makes her laugh because it sure wasn’t from the sex he only kinda-sorta just had.

“Your dick game is pathetic,” she informs him, leaning back in her chair. “What was that, a minute? Thirty seconds? I know it happens to a lot of guys, but damn, Ryuji.”

He splutters. “Shut up!”

“I’m doing you a favor,” she smirks. “Either start endurance training, or sleep with better guys. Literally anyone could last longer than that.”

“Hey that wasn’t my fault! It wasn’t my dick that--”

She can hear the guy in the background getting up and bitching at Ryuji, and doesn’t even try to hide her cackling.

“Up your dick game!” She says cheerfully, and hangs up.

Every rude text she gets after that just makes her laugh harder.

2.

For someone who doesn’t want to date until she gets out of university, Makoto sure does have a lot of sex.

The first couple times, Futaba just mutes her. It’s not that she doesn’t want to be a gremlin about it like she did with Ryuji, it’s that she can’t stop thinking about that first time. Not only is it really awkward thinking like that about someone who’s basically her older sister… Makoto’s game doesn’t really need any improvement. She got that girl screaming.

Then she has another Ryuji-short encounter. Like, Futaba can’t even come out of her programming haze fast enough to hit the mute. There’s one loud sex scream, and then silence. Futaba, once more, stops. She can’t believe this is happening again, to Makoto of all people.

It takes her another minute or so to actually call Makoto, because she’s willing to give Makoto a lot more credit than Ryuji. When it stays silent, though, Futaba makes the call.

“Futaba?” Makoto’s not even out of breath. Weak. “Is something wrong?”

“The something wrong is your strap game,” Futaba snorts. “Seriously, that was terrible. That had to be like thirty seconds. I expected better from you, Makoto.”

Silence on the other end. Futaba smirks.

“Like, the other times you really got it, but that was--”

“No.”

Futaba pauses. What?

“You’re not doing this ever again.” There’s steel in Makoto’s voice, steel and fury like Futaba hasn’t heard in years. She can just about feel Johanna breathing down her neck, hear the revving of a motorcyle engine. “I trusted you, and you crossed a line.”

Ice pours down Futaba’s spine, and she shrinks in her seat.

“I accepted that you were monitoring my phone because you’re worried,” Makoto snaps, “but this is way beyond that. My private life is none of your business unless I tell you myself, Futaba. Do you understand that?”

Futaba whimpers out a yes.

Makoto pants into the silence.

“Do you… do you want me to take out the bug?”

Makoto sighs. “Are you going to do this again?”

Futaba shakes her head even though Makoto can’t see her. “No way.”

“Then you can leave it in. But if you ever step into my private life again, Futaba….”

Futaba yelps. “Got it.”

Makoto hangs up on her. Makoto never hangs up on anyone. Futaba sinks further into her seat.

3.

Okay, so messing with Makoto didn’t go so well, but when Futaba hears Akira and Yusuke trying to have sex, she can’t help herself. There’s so much yelping and whining and what sounds like elbows going into the wrong places, she’s gotta step in.

“Futaba?” Yusuke answers, which okay she didn’t really expect since she called Akira’s phone.

“You really suck at that,” Futaba says. “Like, if you guys even manage to get to the best part I’ll be surprised.”

A pause, then Yusuke says, “You’re right. Do you have any advice?”

Futaba stares at her screen. “Watch the teeth? I mean dicks are sensitive, you gotta be careful with that shit. And don’t suck at full force, that hurts too.”

Yusuke makes a thoughtful noise. “That’s very helpful. I will apply it.”

He hangs up, and Futaba dissociates through listening to Yusuke blow Akira. She doesn’t really want to hear it, but she only manages to mute them after Akira says, quietly, “Thanks, Futaba.”

Gross.

4.

Out of all of them, Futaba really expected Ann to get some sooner.

She’s hot, she’s gay, she works in movies. Some intern has to have offered to go down on her in a back room somewhere, Futaba is dead sure of that. If Ann weren’t pretty much her sibling, Futaba would think real hard about it.

But it’s only after basically everyone else gets some that Ann gets naked with someone.

Futaba tries to stop herself, she really does. But she can’t stop thinking about the stupid-funny fights that Ann and Ryuji get into, and how hilarious it’s gonna be if Futaba catches her at the right time.

So she bides her time, and rings up Ann when there’s a break in the activity.

“What’s wrong?” Ann, at least, is out of breath because she’s actually been doing something.

“Your strap game is wrong,” Futaba smirks. “Seriously, you need to up that. Your rhythm was so bad I’m tempted to tell your manager about it. Aren’t you supposed to be a dancer?”

“I can’t believe this.”

“You can’t believe this? I’m the one who just listened to your off-beat humping.”

Ann breathes out, long and slow. She… she doesn’t sound the way she usually does when she’s about to blow.

“Ryuji told me that you did this to him, but I really thought you learned your lesson,” Ann says. “Maybe if you stopped creeping on the rest of us and started looking into getting your own sex life, you wouldn’t be poking into ours!”

She hangs up. Futaba stares at her screen. She can’t see anything, obviously, but she hears Ann’s phone hit fabric, that fabric hit a solid surface, and then a door slam shut. Sexiled. She’s been sexiled.

Futaba sulks for the rest of the night.

5.

Haru being the last to have sex doesn’t really surprise Futaba. She has just as many trust issues as the rest of them, only hers just got worse over time. Lots of people want Haru for one reason or another - most of those reasons money - and she has to be careful about who she’s seen with, let alone who she takes home.

Futaba doesn’t actually plan on messing with Haru. The other girl is usually nice to Futaba, though she can be mean sometimes. It’s just Haru’s bad luck that she was mean to Futaba the night before she brought a girl home.

At least, that’s what Futaba tells herself when she picks up the phone.

“Futaba? Are you alright?”

Haru sounds like she’s actually worried. It makes Futaba feel a little bad, but she’s already here and doing this, she might as well keep going.

“I was until I heard that,” Futaba says. “How long was that, five minutes? You gotta hit the treadmills more if that’s the best you’ve got.”

Haru is quiet for so long that Futaba would think she’d hung up, if not for her breathing on the other end of the line.

“Stay right there.”

Futaba swallows. She hasn’t heard anything like that out of Haru in a long, long time.

On the other end of the line, Futaba hears Haru apologizing to someone, saying her younger sister ‘needs some attention’. Futaba whimpers.

“I’m coming over.” Haru says. Futaba can’t get anything out.

For long minutes, Futaba stares at Haru’s coordinates as they get closer and closer. She really fucked up this time. They all have tempers, but Haru keeps hers on the best leash out of any of them. For her to be coming over to yell, Futaba has to have done something really, really bad.

Haru gets to Futaba’s place, and lets herself in. Futaba’s bedroom door is locked. She stares at it with wide eyes.

Nobody has a key to Futaba’s bedroom door. They all respect what it means when Futaba has it closed. Haru will just yell at her through it. Right?

“Let me in,” Haru says, none of the usual sweetness in her voice.

Futaba whines. She can’t use her words right now.

“If I have to force my way in, Futaba,” Haru says, sing-song, “you’re not going to like it.”

Futaba wraps her arms around her legs. No way she’s opening that door.

“Open the door.”

Futaba is up and opening the door before she can think about it. On the other side stands Haru, radiating the kind of aura that Futaba has without a trace of sarcasm called “Big Lesbian Energy”.

(Haru is bisexual, but god is Futaba gay right now.)

“I hear,” Haru says, stepping inside and closing the door behind herself, “that you have some concerns about my bedroom skills.”

Futaba whimpers, backing up against her bed. She’s wet. God.

“I thought I would address those concerns in person.”

The door lock slides home. Haru pushes her onto the bed.

“I know your safe word,” Haru says, almost casual as she climbs on top of Futaba. There’s a thick weight against Futaba’s thigh, and she whimpers again. “You won’t be needing it.”

Somehow, Futaba’s hands find their way above her head. She doesn’t remember putting them there. She knows Haru didn’t do it.

“This is your chance to tell me to leave,” Haru says. She cocks her head to the side. “But you don’t want me to, do you?”

Futaba shakes her head so hard it almost hurts.

“Right,” Haru says, pushing up Futaba’s shirt. “Then I think it’s time for a practical demonstration.”

+1

Futaba wheezes, laying face-down on her bed as she suffers. She’s sore in places she forgot she had. She’s going to limp tomorrow. She’s covered in sweat. She’s going to be masturbating about this for the rest of her life.

Haru leans against the headboard, every piece of clothing perfectly in place. The entire time, she’d only unzipped her pants enough to strap Futaba to within an inch of her life. Her hair isn’t even messed up, which is unfair considering what a mess Futaba is right now.

“For the record,” Haru says, pulling out her phone to check her email, “that was round six, and she was too over-sensitive to last very long. Understand?”

Futaba wheezes out something that might be a ‘yes’. She did a lot of yelling. She’s real glad Sojiro retired to the country last year.

“Oh,” Haru says, flipping through corporate emails like she didn’t just get done having the best sex of Futaba’s life, “and Futaba?”

“Yes?” It takes a lot more effort to talk than it ever should.

“You should work on your stamina.”

Futaba’s only response is a boneless slump.


End file.
